


Chosen Path

by hauntedwasteland



Series: Echoes [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Canon, Link has a sister, M/M, Pre-Calamity (Legend of Zelda), Rating May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedwasteland/pseuds/hauntedwasteland
Summary: Ghirahim awoke eons after his final battle with the boy from the sky to a world unfamiliar to him. With no master to order him, he is unsure what to do with himself, yet he must decide whether to remain loyal to his former master, or to allow Link's nature to win him over.Link wants nothing to do with the Sword that Seals the Darkness, yet his fate sealed. He must endure all that stands between him and his fate, even if it kills him.
Relationships: Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Echoes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191056
Kudos: 9





	Chosen Path

**Author's Note:**

> I am rusty as hell, be warned. I tried to flesh out BotW's story where it lacks and leave it where it doesn't. Of course I'm not perfect, and once again I have not written anything since like eighth grade. I listened to a lot of NieR Automata's OST while writing this, so it may take some inspiration from there. I have two parts planned out, but I decided to start rolling out part one. I hope you enjoy!

The thirteen year old's footsteps were heavy, and each time his worn boot sank into the mud below his feet. He held his cloak close as thunder roared overhead, threatening any who dared venture in its path. With the storm, the normally lively Faron Forest was quiet. The moon's light was barely able to pierce the thick clouds that blanketed the sky.

Link was not bothered by it, too lost in his own mind to care. He held his hood close to his head and glued his eyes to the ground. He wasn't sure why he left home; such thoughts were not important at the moment. Perhaps this was the last thing he should have done, when both his father and sister were also mourning the loss of Adrie, his mother. But he didn't care, and his feet carried him on. He was ill prepared for the walk he chose to take, but that was another thing he couldn't be bothered to think about. Scratches littered his bare arms, the blood thinning and dripping off his arm in the rainwater. He had a cut on his finger that he had wrapped with a piece of his shirt that was now stained dark red. He could hardly feel the pain, his mind was so clouded. He thought he was hungry, but his limbs were too exhausted to climb the trees and gather fruit to solve such a problem.

Once his limbs were so heavy each step became a pain, Link chose to rest under a tree, shivering in the cold, wishing that he had even thought to bring a pack. All he had was a dagger on his hip, the very same that he had cut his finger with.

He'd left home earlier that day, only an hour after his father returned from Hyrule Castle to bring the news of his mother's death. The news had shocked him into silence, leaving him unable to voice his grief. He had sat in silence away from his father and sister, unable to cry.

His father had broke down in the middle of the explanation, his tears ugly as his words became more and more incoherent. Sylvi, Link's younger sister, was barely old enough to understand what had happened, but she understood that she would never see her mother again, and was only more upset by her father's tears.

Both their father and mother had been royal guards to King Bosphoramus Hyrule, who had known of their relationship but chose to allow it to continue, so long as it did not inhibit their ability to perform. Both were excellent swordsmen, willing to give their lives for their king. When they chose to have children, they likely did not consider how rarely they would see them. Sylvi had grown closer to their caretaker than either of her parents.

His mother had been the more relaxed one. Link often snuck out for hours and sometimes even days, much to their caretaker's dismay. When she complained to his parents, his father had scolded him and warned him that he would get himself killed. His mother, however, had chosen to teach Link how to survive in the wild without getting himself in trouble, taking him out to the forest and teaching him which berries to pick and how to keep himself warm, among other things. The only thing she asked was that he not do something stupid, which was the exact thing he was doing now.

Link curled into a ball, shrinking under the out cropping of stone that he rested beneath. Though he had not cried before, he did now. He sobbed into his knees, the full weight of his grief crashing down upon him under the rocky outcrop. The thunder continued to roar, and the lightning continued to flash, heedless of the boy lost in their storm. Not too far away, Link heard a tree explode as it struck, but he could not be bothered to feel the fear that should have come with it.

His father had spared him the details of her death, but Link didn't need them. He knew enough to know that it had been a member of the Yiga Clan to spill her blood on the sands of the Gerudo Canyon. She was the most skilled person Link had ever known, surpassing even his father. How could she have fought them and _lost?_ It wasn't fair. How could they? Why did the Yiga Clan choose to kill his mother rather than the king she was meant to protect? Why couldn't it be someone else?

Link jolted out of his thoughts, his heart pounding. However, he could not place what made his stomach churn. He glanced overhead and saw no Skulltula posed to pounce on him. The bushes only rustled when the wind chose to blow. He saw no eyes in the dark, and heard no footsteps other than his own. He was alone as far as he knew, yet fear gripped him.

Link shivered, praying to the goddess that he was alone. Small as he was, if attacked he would be able to quickly escape--if he knew the area. And he did not.

Fortunately, he received no answer, and the woods remained silent save for the patter of rain and the roar of thunder. But Link could not shake his unease, and chose to stand and continue on. At least if he kept moving he would be able to spot his company more easily.

The feeling only grew stronger as Link crossed a newly built stone bridge, proceeding deeper into the forest. Darkness enveloped his surroundings, and his only guide was the occasional flash of lightning and what appeared to be thick, stone pillars. Their appearance was unclear in the dark, but they were at least something to guide him, especially when he could not see the path. However, he could _feel_ a path under his feet—he glanced down as lightning flashed, and realized that there was a stone path that could lead him along. Link chose to follow it, winding between low rocky cliffs and ancient pillars. When the path stopped, Link stood puzzled before realized that he could follow a stone wall to his left, which was decorated with intricate carvings of dragons and symbols unfamiliar to the Hylian boy.

Link continued until the river cut him off once more—from here, his only guide was the pillars along the riverbank. Link considered turning back, but he was growing curious. These were ruins, but what could be contained within them? Why did the people who built these stone structures worship dragons so? What did these carvings mean?

Still, the feeling that he was being watched lingered in the back of his mind. Link glanced over his shoulder once more, expecting to find the culprit, but still he could see nothing. Taking in a deep breath, he continued on, wishing that he were not alone.

Eventually, the trail of pillars ended, and the narrow path created by the river opened up into a clearing. Link could just make out the walls along the edges, along with pillars just ahead. And at the end of the clearing, barely visible, was a large stone strucure.

There. Link was sure that the eyes upon him came from something within that structure. But what could watch him from such a position, especially from way back on the bridge?

"Hello?" Link called, but the only response was his echo. He shivered.

If one thing was certain, Link was not the only one in these ruins. Though he could not see them, he could feel their presence on the other side of the structure, within the dragon's head. Just from this, he was able to tell that the other person was experienced with magic—very experienced. He had no wish to disturb them.

Link turned on his heel, prepared to break into a sprint. However, a flicker of orange light on the river waters stopped him. Link heard several sets of footsteps and darted behind a pillar, the hilt of his dagger clutched tightly between his hands. The footsteps grew closer, and Link held his breath as best he could in his fearful state.

"Look—there are tracks! He may have gone off the path!" a man said to his group, his voice barely audible to the boy in hiding.

"LINK! ARE YOU THERE?"

As the owner raised his voice, Link recognized him, and had never felt so relieved. For now, his curiosity was dead, his tears were shed for the night, and he had no wish to remain here. "Dad!" he called out as he rushed out of his hiding spot and toward the man that appeared from around the corner. "I'm over here!"

The man was tall, with muscles peeking through well worn tunic and chainmail. Though he wore a hood, streams of tears were visible on the man's cheeks, and his eyes were puffy and red. "Thank _Hylia_!" Link's dad exclaimed as his eyes set on his son, his voice trembling. "You scared me half to death. Sylvi said she saw you run off a while ago, and when no one at the stable said that they'd seen you, I thought the Yiga Clan had gotten to you too." He sniffed and rubbed his scarred palm on his eye.

Link averted his eyes as he realized the tears his dad had already shed for him, the guilt setting in. "I'm sorry, I—"

"I know. You've always done crap like this, it's just—" He stopped, and took in a shaky breath. "Just try to warn me next time. Please."

Link nodded, the tears welling up again. He glanced back at the dragon's head, into its dark mouth, and shivered. He wondered if his father felt it too—the distinct presence somewhere within that statue.

His father glanced out into the darkness with a furrowed brow, answering Link's question. It was a long moment before tore his eyes away and looked down at his son. "Come on, kid, let's get you home. You're going to get sick when you're soaked like that." He put a hand to Link's back, and Link followed, suddenly aware of the chills setting in at his father's words. 

____

"Link! That's the second time! Pay attention!" Egil scolded. He drew back a step as he watched his son hunch over with a hand on one knee and a sword in the other, breathing heavily. Egil could not blame him; he had just taken a blow to the side, but it had also been a very telegraphed move. Link should have been able to dodge it, and normally he _would_ dodge it.

"All right, whatever. Let's try this again," Link said as he stood straight again, giving his sword a test swing to ensure that nothing was broken. However, Egil did not continue as normal.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, setting the splintery wooden sword against the tree. "I mean, in the next few days you go through with the ceremonies. And I won't be there."

"Maybe a bit," Link admitted. "But tomorrow is my birthday, and I'm setting out _tonight._ It's too late for second thoughts."

"Well...well I wanted to make _sure_ you were ready, and you're not really proving yourself right now. You know they don't usually let you take up the training in your own home. You're very privileged for that, Link."

Link sighed and crossed his arms as he turned toward the outskirts of the training grounds, toward the road that wound uphill into the forest. Egil could not help but notice his eye roll as he turned, but he chose to say nothing about it. Perhaps he said that too much—but it was true. Very true. And that was without taking into account the fact that Link's training had begun much later for most knights; he had only chosen that path a couple of weeks after the death of Amelice, his mother. Egil was shocked that he stuck to it. Egil had encouraged him to become a knight when he was younger, Link had always adamantly refused. What would make him wish to forfeit his decision now? The only conclusion Egil could draw was that it had something to do with his mother, but he never asked. He was sure that Link would not be willing to tell him.

"Look," Egil finally said, as he recalled why he actually called Link out here. He'd always hid his long conversations and warning behind training sessions and trips to the lake to fish. Link had surely caught on to that trend practically the moment Egil had retired, and just wanted him to be out with it already. "I wanted to warn you about the Yiga Clan. They've been desperate lately. It's because the Royal Family consulted a prophet."

Though Egil could not see Link's face from where he stood, he could judge that he had his son's attention based on the way his chin tilted upward at the mention of the Yiga Clan. He had always been like that since that day--the moment the Yiga Clan's name left someone's lips, Link would stop what he was doing to listen. Egil was sure that Link already knew about the increase in attacks, but he couldn't know the cause.

"As a result, the Royal Family has begun to look for a candidate to wield the so-called Sword that Seals the Darkness. This mission was meant to be kept secret, that only the knights and the members of the Royal Family would know. So don't tell King Rhoam I'm saying this. But obviously that information has leaked, likely through a spy. The Yiga Clan have killed many young men over this. I don't want them to get to you the same way."

Link stood still as he processed what his father had told him. "I'm not going to die like Mom did. That I can promise you."

Link grabbed a towel and dabbed his face with it before turning toward the road and heading back toward Hateno Village. His words served as no comfort to Egil. If anything, they made him feel worse. Amelice had said something similar years ago.

When Egil returned home, the sun was high overhead and the day had grown warm. He entered his home on the hill to find Link already stuffing his things into a pack. It wasn't much--some clothes he was not likely to wear and food for the journey was all he carried within it. Already strapped to his waist was the dagger his Amelice had gifted him long ago as well as a sword. The dagger was from her days before she became a royal guard, when she had been charged with training knights and supplying or repairing their weapons. It had allowed her to live through many situations, and now it would help Link do the same.

"I thought you were leaving at nightfall," Egil said, tearing his gaze from the dagger. "It's only noon."

"I want to do something before I lose my chance," Link replied as he picked up the pack and slung it over his shoulder. "Where's Sylvi?"

"What? You're not planning to become a royal guard, are you?" Egil said, dismissing the question. She was out helping one of the farmers with his cattle. "You'll have plenty of chances."

Link hesitated, averting his eyes before he spoke. Egil quirked a brow, knowing that when Link did that he was about to say something that would piss him off. "You know the reason I chose to become a knight. If I'm gonna devote my life to it then I might as well go back to where I decided I would cry it out."

For a moment, it did not click in Egil's head what Link intended to do. He recalled his speculation about Link's intentions, then the night that he made the dreary journey home to give his children the news, as well as when he had finally realized through his grief that Link was no longer at home with his father and sister. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? I _know_ you felt whatever was in those ruins as well as I did! I'd _never_ seen you so scared before then, and I haven't seen you that scared _since_ then!"

Link let out a huff as he tied his bag shut and faced his father, who now gave him a stern glare. Link returned the favor. "I know it's stupid, Dad. But those ruins have haunted the back of my mind since the night I came across them. I need some sort of closure, you know?"

"It would be fine if you were just returning to her grave or something, but that place is cursed! I can't let you go back there!"

When Link made to step forward, Egil shifted so that he stood in the way of the door. Link stared at him, silent, his lips held tightly together.

"I mean it, Link. I can't let you go back there. You'll die."

If Link had a response, he didn't say it. He continued to stare at his father in dead silence, his gaze piercing. Finally, he turned to the stairs to his left and Egil watched in dumbfoundment as Link jumped out of their window at the top. By the time Egil gathered that he should open the door and go after him, Link had vanished without a trace. Even the guards at the gate said that they didn't see him leave.

——

The twenty year old's footsteps were heavy, and each time his new boots sank into the mud below his feet. He held his cloak close as crickets chirped and a distant wolf howled. The normally lively Faron Woods had only settled down slightly as night drew near. The moon lit everything its rays touched with a dull, but gentle light. The bushes and trees rustled in a gentle breeze. Link turned his face into it and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in a poor attempt to calm his nerves.

 _Back here again,_ Link thought bitterly as he glanced upward. At least this time it wasn't an impulsive decision. It had been on his mind for years--he only chose to return here now, when he was sure it would be his last chance. If he didn't come back, then the thoughts of this place would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He recalled the emotions he'd felt that night--the anger, the intense grief. He'd wondered more than once after that incident how he was going to keep going, and had never considered that he may just take her place in the guard one day. He had always desired to be outdoors, in the wild, where no soul could judge what he did. To become a knight seemed to be against his nature, yet it was the path he chose.

Link crossed the stone bridge, that was now plenty more worn than seven years before. Trees that had been sprouting when Link had come here that night were fully grown now, and several trees had been cut down, presumably for the bridge that the Royal Family had planned to build over the Floria Falls. The path through was much more clear as people began to brave the woods' depths, the grass dying under their feet and eventually never returning. Even in such a short time, the woods had changed plenty.

But, of course, the path that Link recognized as the one he took before took a sharp left at the end of the bridge, with the stone path that was half hidden under overgrown foliage.

The path would surely be populated by monsters now, as they had begun appearing much more often a couple years before. But Link also felt braver than he did several years ago. After that incident, his father had begun allowing him to carry a full fledged sword rather than just a dagger. Link very much suspected that his father had sensed the magic as Link did, though he refused to let it daunt him now.

And so, Link made careful steps off the beaten path. Further down the line, Link found the river flowing beside him, its murky water bringing back memories of that night. His curiosity grew as he began to feel that presence again. He'd been certain that it had been a mage all those years ago, but could magic that carried such sadness belong to an _object?_ Unless the mage lived in those ruins, which seemed unlikely, he could think of no other explanation.

The dragon's head came into view, less menacing without the storm nearly obscuring it from view. Link paused as the magic grew stronger, and he could feel the melancholy once more. Still, shadows were all that waited for him within its jaws. As Link crossed the clearing, crossing a small stream and passing between two pairs of pillars more plain than the others, he pulled a torch from his pack and lit it with a match. He saw the outlines of what Link could assume were the innards of a mouth above his head. Steps awaited him at the back of the dragon's mouth, and beyond that he could make out a statue. At the top of the steps, Link found a spring coated with algae and foliage. Moonlight sparked on the water's surface from a hole in the ceiling above. The statue was much more visible now, and Link was able to make out the small smile of Hylia, along with the stone hands she pressed against her chest.

"Is anyone here? Hello?"

Link did not think that such magic could come from the Goddess Hylia, even if it was odd to find a monument of her form here. His heart pounded as he looked around and failed to find another plausible source. It was _here,_ where he stood, and he could not see it. Link felt something shift in the air, and an owl hooted, but otherwise there was no response.

"Come on, I can't be yelling at the air like an idiot," Link grumbled as he stepped closer to the spring and attempted to make out the decaying walls of the statue.

_______

"...llo...?"

The words stirred the demon from his eternal rest. Though he could not see where his blade rested, he knew that it was hot and humid. He felt something nearby--an aura that Ghirahim thought he knew well, but could not place. Footsteps echoed outside the blade, and an eerie noise that Ghirahim recognized as an owl broke the silence of the night.

"Come on, I can't be yelling at nothing like an idiot." The grumbling voice seemed to belong to a young male, a daring one at that if he chose to disturb Ghirahim's rest. He seemed to be the owner of the aura--the one that was familiar yet not at the same time. Ghirahim began to grow curious, but did not withdraw from the refuge of his blade just yet. The man was surely Hylian; he would no doubt be upset to see a demon such as himself.

He waited until he felt the man reach a point a few feet away from his blade, where the demon could feel the weakened presence of the Goddess's magic. It was then that he withdrew with a flash, his blade disappearing, replaced by the demon lord's more animated form. The Hylian, oblivious to what was behind him, stood atop a set of stairs with his back to Ghirahim, torch in hand. Ghirahim approached the blond quietly, a smile curling his lips.

Once Ghirahim was close enough he put his hands on the man's shoulders and spoke: "Now, what could one such as you be doing here?"

The smaller man whipped around, jumping back when he realized how close Ghirahim was. The man's feet missed stone, and he toppled into the dirty spring water behind him. Ghirahim could not help but laugh at the blunder.

However, as the amusement died down and Ghirahim opened his eyes, he took in the ruins around him. He could not recognize the statue in which they stood. The spring that the goddess had once bathed herself in was murkey and covered in algae, her statue decayed nearly beyond recognition. His laughter died in the night. 

He thought he heard the other man say something to him, perhaps asked a few questions, but Ghirahim paid him no mind. His eyes trailed toward the hole in the ceiling, where he could make out a steep cliff jutting out against a clear night sky. This was not where he had finally succumbed to his wounds. Ghirahim did not know this place. Why was he here?

Ghirahim turned and started down the steps, trying to get a greater grip on his bearings. Surely he would be able to find _something_ that was familiar to him. He snapped his fingers. For a moment, it seemed that he had lost his touch with magic, and that he would have simply looked a fool to the man running after him now. However, within a few moments Ghirahim felt the familiar feeling of rapid motion, and he simply stared ahead into the darkness as heavy footfalls approached from behind.

"Hey, wait!" the other man called, but his words only reached the ghost of what once was.


End file.
